End of the Storm
by LCJA
Summary: 300 A.C. The Golden Company will not take Storm's End. As to why that is, well...


_Disclaimer: I own nothing of The Witcher or A Song of Ice and Fire._

* * *

Ser Gilbert Farring had considered Mace Tyrell's withdrawal of most of his forces a mixed blessing. On one hand, he's taken most of his men and ran off somewhere, leaving only a token force to continue the siege. On the other hand, Mathis Rowan was intelligent enough to be a formidable opponent, despite his reduced force.

And so here he was, stuck in place at Storm's End until the Golden Company arrived. Those bastard sellswords routed the Reachmen before turning their attention to this last bastion of Baratheon loyalists.

He looked to the side to his strange guests, Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg. Strange visitors from places he's never heard from, but he knew King Stannis accepted them and accomodated them as guests.

He didn't know why they were here now, arriving just before the Essosi mercenaries did. With King Stannis having taken most of the army to aid the Night's Watch, he was rather suspicious. Still, they had given a good accounting of themselves when the Golden Company troops assaulted the walls. They had turned back all encroaching attacks with such steel and fire that they were easily worth a hundred men; so he was happy to have them on his side of the walls.

The worst the enemy's siege engines could throw were held back by giant magical barriers, and the siege towers and ladders were struck down with fire and lightning. He had seen Lady Melisandre's magicks, but what these two had shown made her power seem like child's play. Not that he would ever say anything within the Red Lady's hearing.

"What are they looking to try for their next attempt?" The raven-haired sorceress asked, sitting behind the battlements with her head to her knees.

Ser Gilbert looked to the enemy with his Myrish spyglass before responding to the sorceress, "My lady, I believe they may be readying some ladders for another go at the walls."

Any sensible commander would have stopped and assessed his options, if not giving up entirely, when faced with such sorcery, but the Red God seems to have blessed them with a fool for an enemy commander.

"Dammit," Geralt muttered, his gruff voice amplifying his soft remark, looking worried for his lady.

After such extensive fighting, her fair features were awash with sweat and her shivering could be seen from the other side of the castle. She was tired. Oh, R'hllor help them. They were all tired, but she surpassed even the mighty walls of Storm's End for contributions in turning back the enemy. Geralt's swordsmanship could have matched the Sword of the Morning and he had his own share of strange powers, but the scale at which Lady Yennefer wielded her magic made his look paltry.

Perhaps the enemy commander was less of a fool than he thought. Under such relentless assaults, even a wielder of great magicks would tire.

"And they just readied a new ram," the witcher laid out one of his remaining explosive baubles, an odd blue one, "And this is my last one."

"Maybe one more, Geralt," Yennefer turned her face to his, "I can't be sure after that."

"I knew we should've gone straight for Dragonstone, but trust Roach to get a stone in her horseshoe in the wrong place," Geralt said this with little expression, but the lady's soft smile in reply suggested that it was said in jest.

Ser Gilbert spoke up, "I've wondered that myself, master witcher. You owe us no allegiance, yet you fought alongside us. Why?"

"It was on the way."

"Aye then. For what it's worth, you have our gratitude, the both of you."

"The day's not over yet," the witcher set a small vial of oil next to the bauble, looking to care for his sword once more before he clashed against enemy steel.

The sorceress stood on shaky legs and looked to the besieging army rallying for their next assault, "And dying here just would not do."

Ser Gilbert smiled to himself and drew his sword, "My king charged me to hold the castle. So I guess we should not fall here then, eh?"

He turned to his soldiers, "Men of Storm's End! The enemy comes to break himself upon our walls again!"

The men around the walls and the courtyard slowed whatever they were doing to listen to their commander.

"How they think this will be any different from their last attempt to storm it! But know that this is where they shall meet their end!"

"STORM'S END!"

"BARATHEON!"

He was not the orator his king was, it was short and he didn't think it was particularly inspiring, but it rallied the men well enough.

Now, though, it was time to see if they could still hold.

* * *

As he expected, the sorceress was too tired to contribute too much to the continued battle and was pulled back from the battlements after she collapsed. Even before she stopped, the enemy seemed to have already adjusted to confront some of her magical abilities.

Wet soldiers in loose formation caught most of the arrows and fire that came their way. And their archers seem to have honed in on her position, forcing her to keep her head down.

After her attacks stopped, the enemy seemed emboldened.

Even when the witcher's bauble destroyed their ram, somehow transmogrifying it and its engineers into ice, they stormed the walls from many ladders and were barely held back.

The Baratheon loyalists were spent, the Reachmen already having bled them. Two hundred men to start with, less than half that now, against frenzied enemies that would not relent until they took Storm's End by force.

The Witcher tirelessly danced around his section of the wall, killing every man within reach and using some magic to throw others off, but there was only one of him. As Sir Gilbert matched swords with a gold-clad knight, he could already see from the corner of his eyes that they were losing the walls.

Under his command, Storm's End would fall for the first time in history.

He barely noticed his opponent's sword grazing to top of his left hand as he managed to surprise the man by rushing forward and pushing him between the crenelations. It was only then he noticed an odd distortion a short distance from the walls, not too far behind the Golden Company's lines. Their reserves noticed it and some men were wheeling towards it, yelling at their comrades at the walls, but most were unaware and still focused on Storm's End.

" _AEN ARD FEAIN!_ "

Ser Gilbert stood dumbfounded as a line of mounted black knights with winged helms rushed from the portal and smashed into the Golden Company's lines.

" _TUVEAN Y GLOIR!_ "

When he last looked around him, his men were losing the walls. But now more of those black knights were coming out from smaller portals all around him, moving to intercept the attacking sellswords with ruthless efficiency.

" _AECÁ_ _EMM AEN ME!_ "

" _A'ANVAL NEEN ORDE!_ "

He brought his sword up to a ready position, but made no action nor gave command against these strangers, confused as he was. As it is, they were making quick work of the Golden Company and were taking control of the walls.

As the last of the Golden Company were felled, the Baratheon soldiers tended to themselves while keeping distance from the black ones. Their timely entrance was convenient, but made a man wary.

Geralt met him down in the lower bailey, his gait steady and his shoulders relaxed even as he supported Yennefer. It looked to be that those two knew these black ones. "Just in the nick of time."

"Master Witcher, you know these people?"

Geralt had already sheathed his steel sword next to the other one on his back, "Yeah, Nilfgaardians. They're from our land, which means..."

" _Gwynbleidd_! Lady Yennefer!" A group of black ones came near them, the one leading them speaking aloud in a strange accent, "Thank the Great Sun, the Empress seeks you."

" _Hael Ker'zaer!_ " The shout came from behind this group and they made way. From in between them passed what looked for all the world to be a Targaryen, save for those green eyes. While Geralt had already claimed distance from the dragonlords, he and this white-haired woman would make one hesitant to take that claim, what with all the magic involved.

"Ciri!" Though weak, Lady Yennefer gave the young woman a smile.

"About time you showed up," Geralt said in jest as all three moved in for a hug.

The young woman looked up from their embrace and gave the two of them a smile, "The next time you two think of going on an adventure, why don't you keep it to the continent and leave other worlds to me?"

Ser Gilbert's mind was overwhelmed as it was and he could only laugh in relief.

He could tell tell King Stannis about this later.

* * *

 **A/N** : I just wrote this in like an hour.

After playing Gwent and having fun with different Nilfgaard deck configurations and hearing their quotes, because theirs are the best bronze quotes, I started to wonder how any force in Westeros or Essos would fare against the might of the Black Ones.

I'm not even bothering to establish proper context as to why the Golden Company would storm thusly in a siege, or why the Nilfgaardians and Stormlanders don't kill each other on sight or even why Geralt and Yen are there, this is just for fun.

Also, it goes without saying which ending this follows.


End file.
